Thaw
by BooksAndBook
Summary: Cassidy spends some more time skating at night. How will she react when Eva convinces her to skate with Tristan now that she is actually a little interested? In the skating, obviously, not Tristan... right?
1. Chapter 1

I skated over to the side of the rink, picking up my water and removing my helmet. Around me, the boys did the same, gulping down water and wiping the sweat from their brows. It was chilly inside the rink, but not when you were skating hard for nearly two hours straight. Still, I know that as warm as I am now, it would do nothing against the raw New England night. Once the sun set, the temperatures plummeted. And nine o'clock was long past sundown.

The rest of the team filed out of the locker room and out the door, scrambling to their cars as they lugged their bags of pads behind them. I set about removing my own gear, wrinkling my nose at the stench. This aspect of hockey certainly wasn't glamorous. I was sure that I couldn't smell remotely pleasant after double practices four out of five nights a week. A Lady Shawmuts night plus school practice and Chicks WIth Sticks meant that I was practically living in at least some part of my gear. And it also meant about 6 hours at the rink.

I looked down at my skates, and then my sock-covered feet. On an impulse, I laced them back up and glided back onto the ice. It was my job to lock up the doors, and the zamboni was scheduled to run at ten. There was nothing stopping me from spending a little bit more time out there.

It felt a little odd to be skating without a stick in my hand and without being weighed down by my pads. Though practice had torn tracks across nearly every inch of the rink, I smoothly skated across the rough ice, throwing in a few crossovers at the turns. Without a need to race across the rink, I instead let myself meader, swirling in circles across the cold expanse. Just for kicks, I lifted up my back leg like the figure skaters that Mom loves to watch during the Winter Olympics. My laugh echoed loudly in the empty rink, leading me into a sharp turn. I swept one leg up as if to jump before thinking better of it. Just because I had learned the basic when I was teaching skating lessons didn't mean that I knew what I was doing. Basics I and 2 in figure skating lessons were really just basic skating skills, not necessarily "figure skating". But Eva had made me attend a few training sessions and I figured it couldn't hurt to try a few of the more advanced moves.

It certainly could hurt, I mused as I picked myself up from the ice. I haven't fallen without some "help" from the other team since I had been in elementary school, but I suppose trying to spin around more than once on one skate was asking a bit too much. Maybe a toe pick would have helped, but then again, it might have made me fall more. A little wistful, I unlaced my skates, pulling on a pair of soft winter boots. Nothing like a fall to bring back memories. All that experience told me that I would be sore in the morning. With one last look at the ice behind me, I slipped from the rink, locking the door behind me. It didn't take long to find Stanley, sitting in the only car waiting in the now-empty lot.

He smiled at me as I climbed in. I yawned in response, looking at the clock. 9:20. It wasn't that late, but I still needed to finish my English paper, though I had managed to finish the rest of my work in the hour between when school got out and Chicks with Sticks began. I'd be lucky if I managed to wake up at six AM. I wouldn't describe myself as a high maintenance girl or anything, but I needed a little time in the morning to get ready for the day. Half and hour was usually more than enough, but if I overslept…

Unfortunately, I knew myself too well. Not only had I fallen asleep while writing my paper, but I had also missed the bus. My english teacher was none too happy when I showed up late to first block without my paper. She pulled me aside after class with such a disappointed look that I couldn't meet her eyes.

"Cassidy, we've had this talk before. I know how much of a priority sports are to you, but we can't go on like this. School needs to be your main concern. I was really starting to enjoy reading your work this fall, but the second hockey season started it seems that your work stopped."

I look at her guiltily. It's not that I didn't care about school or my grades. Actually, I knew that they were probably as important as my skills when it came to college. No matter how good I was, no one was going to offer a scholarship to someone who wasn't decently intelligent. It's just that I felt really committed to Chicks with Sticks… and the school team… and I couldn't stop doing Lady Shawmuts. Of course, my ability to do all three hinged upon receiving good grades. I licked my lips, unsure of what to say. Luckily, the warning bell rang, and I was able to dart from the room, sprinting down the hallway to math.

As I suited up for practice I still felt stressed. I wasn't quite sure what I could do about this situation. Maybe I could ask for an extra credit opportunity? Or maybe I could find someone to help me run Chicks With Sticks. I'm not sure who I could ask, though. Darcy would be a safe bet except he was currently in England. And I would feel terrible asking so much of Mrs. Bergson after she had already helped me so much.

I attacked the ice, the puck, and my fellow players with a fierce passion. Anything to let out some of my feelings. From the looks I received at the end of practice, the rest of my team had definitely noticed. I heard some of the other guys laughing as they came out of the locker room.

"That time of month, Sloane?" one of them quipped. I socked him in the arm before turning into the girls' locker room. I shed my layers quickly, prepared to leave immediately. Today I had finished all of my homework before practice. Maybe I would manage to get 8 hours of sleep tonight. But hearing no voice in the hall, I quickly slipped my skates back on. It had been relaxing yesterday. It could help me forget about English for a little bit. At least I had managed to finish the paper since Chicks With Sticks was only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The extra hour on Wednesdays made all the difference. Hopefully I could receive partial credit. A zero would make my grade tank, and make my mother notice. She had already threatened to take me off of the Lady Shawmuts when I had gotten a 70 on my science test. Honestly, a C wasn't that bad!

I set out across the ice again, letting myself try some different moves. A little backwards skating. A few simple spins. Gritting my teeth, I tried the same spin from yesterday.

I was shocked when I managed to stay on my feet, but even more so when the sound of clapping reached my ears. I was all set to go off on whoever was mocking my skating when I opened my eyes to see Mrs. Bergson.

Instantly, my glare softened and I glided over to the entrance she stood at.

"Well, that wasn't something I would expect to see you doing. But nicely done, Cassidy," she joked, smiling warmly at me. I couldn't help but return her grin.

"Just fooling around. School's got me a bit stressed out," I confided.

She nodded understandingly.

"You know, you're welcome to stay a little later. I know when I was younger, skating was the only thing that let me feel…"

"Free," I finished.

"And I'm always here to help. It wouldn't hurt to have someone qualified to teach the rest of the figure skating basics. And I know that you aren't the biggest fan of figure skating, but if you took a few lessons yourself, I'm sure that you'd do wonderfully. You're more qualified than you think, and those girls really do look up to you, Cassidy. You're becoming quite the teacher."

I blushed at her praise.

"Thanks Mrs. Bergson. I'll think about it."

"Call me Eva dear, you know that."

I smiled at her again before heading into the locker room and grabbing my things. Her offer sounded surprisingly fun, but I wasn't sure where I would fit it in. My schedule was already jam-packed. But a part of me just wanted to help people learn to love skating like I do. Even if it was… figure skating.

The rest of the week passed in a haze of hard work. Practice, practice, some writing, a little math. By the time Friday rolled around, I thought I might drop. Thankfully, Shawmuts didn't practice on Fridays unless we had a tournament on the weekends, and my weekend was clear. I looked forwards to sleep, sleep, and more sleep, mixed in with a lot of eating.

By the time practice was over, I could gladly have gone home and straight to bed. But as I had every day of this week, I snuck back onto the ice. Eva had made me promise that I would come back Saturday night for a figure skating lesson, and I didn't want to disappoint her. So I had spent some time on the Internet trying to figure out what I would need to know. I stumbled my way through a few Mohawks until I felt satisfied that I could do them, but slowly. I could finally spin on one foot for awhile, long enough to make me dizzy. I felt really confident when my skates were on the ice- it was jumping that was the problem. I figured it probably had something to do with my hockey skates, but I wasn't really sure what I could do to fix that situation. Skate rental wasn't open when the rink wasn't open to the public.

I pushed those thoughts away and continued to whirl around the ice. Crossover into Mohawk. Three-turn. I nearly fell out of a spin when I heard someone else's voice call out to me.

"Hello? You there?"

The British accent told me all I needed to know. Not Tristan Jerkley again. Ever since I had run into him at the rink early into the fall, I had tried my best to avoid him. Luckily he was usually leaving just before Chicks with Sticks, having snuck in an hour of skating between when the high school let out and the elementary school kids arrived. He had made his position on hockey very clear and that endeared him to few people at the rink. I turned to look at him.

"Yes, you. Actually, Mrs. Bergson said that I could have the ice now before the zamboni. So I'd appreciate it if you could leave?"

I looked at him flatly.

"She told me that I could, after the hockey practice."

Before the conflict could escalate any further, the woman herself appeared from the door to her office.

"Cassidy, Tristan! So good to see you," she greeted warmly. I felt satisfaction when Tristan recoiled. Obviously he hadn't recognized me. I wondered why- there weren't too many redheads running around the rink. I took this as my opportunity to escape into the locker room, putting skate guards onto my blades and making a dash for freedom. The door shut behind me, and I sighed in relief, sitting down to unlace my skates. Thank goodness I had managed to avoid another encounter with the Jerk himself. Waiting a few minutes (or what felt like long enough for Tristan to be distracted), I walked out of the battered door.

I actually stopped in my tracks when I saw him flying around on the ice, clad in his usual blue spandex. Ordinarily I would have stopped to laugh at the ridiculous outfit, but I got a little distracted. He was good. Like, really good. He performed the (admittedly basic) combinations that I struggled with as if they were nothing. Mohawks which I had struggled with were used causally in connections. Tearing my eyes away, I walked out into the parking lot.

I couldn't let myself admit that maybe I was a little jealous. After all, it's not like I would ever want to be a figure skater, right? Or, what was it that he called it? "Ice dancing"? Personally, I didn't know the difference.

Back on Google at home, I saw the difference. To be honest, ice dancing actually sounded pretty fun. There wasn't the same emphasis on terrifyingly fast spins and lifts. It was more about spins than jumping, more like a dance than gymnastics. It seemed a little bit more approachable than figure skating, at least for someone who was so far not a big fan of the big figure skating moves. But whereas ice dancing seemed approachable, Tristan was not. And as scary as figure skating seemed, Eva was just about the easiest person to talk to.

I climbed into bed, a little confused at my own sudden interest. It's not like I had anything to prove to anyone. Especially not the Jerk.

But I couldn't get his analyzing gaze out of my mind as I fell asleep. It felt like he was mocking me. His eyes when he realized that it had been me who was skating had grown cold and judgemental. They told me exactly what he thought of me. And I found myself wanting to change that.

Score: Tristan Berkley, 1. Cassidy Sloane, 0.

I didn't like losing.


	2. Chapter 2

I groaned as I rolled over to slam my hand down on top of my alarm clock. What I wouldn't give for a few more minutes of sleep! But Eva had promised me some lessons to make sure that I could do most of the figure skating basics. I didn't really expect to do much despite what Mrs. Bergson was expecting of me, but she was generous to offer me time learning from her. Even if that time was at six in the morning.

Stanley climbed in the car moments after I did. I don't ever tell him, but it has actually been pretty great having him around. I can't imagine willingly waking up before nine in the morning and so Stanley wins some brownie points in my book. I think I fell asleep on the way over because I woke up as we pull into the parking lot. Sleepily, I scrambled from the car and through the front door to the rink. Eva seemed to appear moments later, surprisingly awake.

"Good morning Cassidy!" she smiled, genuinely happy to see me. Despite my snarky and grumpy ways, I wish that I could have even a fraction of Eva's kindness. To actually mean every smile? Not a realistic goal for me, but a good one. Mrs. Bergson turned to go to her office and I followed.

I was shocked when she reached into a bag and pulled out a box, opening it to reveal a pair of white figure skates. Oh no. Nope. Not happening.

I tried to dissuade her by telling her that a pair of skates is way too generous. She laughed.

"Cassidy, your mother was the one who bought these for you when you first started teaching skating lessons. I've just been holding onto them until I thought you were ready."

Well, there went that plan. I sighed and headed back over to the rink, sitting down on a bleacher to lace up the new skates. I hated to admit it, but they looked pretty good. My hockey skates get gross really fast, even when I get a new pair. I stood up and opened the door to the rink, stepping out and slowly starting to move. The skates felt odd on my feet, and the blades cut differently into the ice. Daring to move a little faster, I felt a toe pick snag and I barely managed to maintain my balance. Eva followed behind me, chuckling. I settled in to listen to her, prepared for very sore bottom at the end of our time together.

In my defense, I didn't fall nearly as much as I thought I would. Grudgingly, I admitted that Eva was probably right. Though it took me a bit to adjust to the different skates, I was still able to skate much like I had when I was wearing my beloved hockey skates. It didn't hurt that the first few levels of basic figure skating were really just skating skills in general, but once we breezed through those, I felt the pace pick up. Luckily the skills that had plagued me when I was just fooling around on the ice became, somehow, a little easier with a toe pick. That is, when I wasn't tripping over it. I was able to stumble my way through most of the skills. Some came more easily than others. I managed a one-foot upright spin, but I struggled with forward inside pivots. Really, once the toe pick got involved, I had a hard time.

After falling for the fifth time trying a jump, Eva looked at her watch.

"Cassidy, I have to go now. You're welcome to keep skating until people show up."

She disappeared into the office. I was really tempted to stop and spare my bruised butt, but I also really wanted to land the waltz jump at least one time. We Sloanes didn't give up so easily.

I did backwards crossovers before gliding backwards on one foot. Feeling a little dramatic, I turned around to continue in a front lunge. A successful spin on one foot left me feeling enough confidence to try the waltz jump again. The worst thing that could happen was falling again.

I sped up a little before jumping up and tucking up my knee. I spun in the air, and got my foot ready for landing, back leg extended. I made contact with the ice, and was shocked when only my skate made that contact. I hadn't fallen this time! I did a sort of victory lap around the rink, throwing in a few of my new moves along the way. It was satisfying to finally succeed.

As I stepped off of the ice, I became acutely aware that someone had been watching me. I scanned the bleachers before my eyes rested on Tristan leaning against the wall. Of all the people! My face flamed, suddenly embarrassed. I swore, if the Jerk decided to say something about this...

He seemed a little distracted, looking at me appraisingly, eyes lingering on the figure skates still on my feet. For some reason this new look was almost worse than when he glared at me. I grew more uncomfortable the longer we stared at each other.

"See something you like?" I shot at him sarcastically before realizing quite what I had implied. Resisting the urge to clap my hands over my mouth, I contemplated escaping to the locker room. Without skate guards for these new skates, I didn't want to risk dulling the blades the first time I had worn them. I was sure that my face matched my hair at this point.

Feeling incredibly awkward, I sat down on the bleachers to unlace my skates.

I saw a shadow approaching out of the corner of my eye. Still trying to free me feet, I looked up to see Tristan looming over me, smirking.

"I didn't know you figure skated, Sloane. Who's the ice princess now?"

I knew I should have expected something like this from him, but it somehow still came as a shock to me. My blood boiled.

"Shut it, Berkley. I need to learn this stuff to teach skate lessons. If you're going stand here and insult me, go away."

"Who said I was insulting you?" Tristan mutters under his breath, marching over to the office. I sit there in shock, not quite sure if I heard him correctly. He wasn't trying to insult me? I didn't like how he looked down on me, but I hadn't been expecting that to change no matter what I did. Why would he be interested in the fact that now I could do a little bit of figure skating?

Halfway through unlacing my skates, I sat on the bench, stunned. I grabbed my phone from the bag, only to find that escaping this awkward situation wouldn't be as easy as I would have liked. Stanley wasn't able to pick me up right now, and I couldn't really ask that of my mom because today she was meeting with her team to go over the script for the next episode of _Cooking With Clementine_. I was here for at least another hour.

I put my phone away before turning back to my skates, lacing them up again and stepping back onto the ice. I lazily circled the ice, not quite sure what to do now that my head was full of new moves, only some of which I could do successfully. I was startled when music started playing through the speakers but when Tristan came back out from the office, I realized it was for him.

I pondered Mrs. Bergson's words. I could keep skating until people showed up, but I wasn't sure if Tristan counted. Maybe they had an agreement where he could skate before the morning skating lessons happened. I wouldn't know; normally I assisted with lessons in the evening. I decided to keep skating anyways.

The music made it much more fun. The beat helped me time some of the moves, and I found myself skating to it, almost unwillingly. At least Tristan's taste in music wasn't as bad as his taste in clothes, I thought, reflecting on the blue spandex number that Megan had mocked online.

I glanced over at the guy in question, who wasn't dressed nearly as offensively today. Maybe he had learned that lesson. He was still wearing leggings though, so I wouldn't count on it.

The skating was going pretty well. I felt a little bit more daring with each new song that had come on, and after the first few minutes it was easy to avoid Tristan and ignore whatever crazy moves he was doing. Feeling bold, I stumbled my way through a combination that Eva had been trying to teach me with little success, tipping forward and knowing that I would not be able to do anything to break my fall.

Surprisingly, I didn't hit the ice because someone had caught me. I knew who it had to be, but I didn't want to look and have it confirmed. I pushed myself away and stood up.

"Thanks," I spat out. Tristan looked a little confused. He had helped me out, but I was not in a mood to put up with it. I would rather fall than have Jerkley catch me.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Um, you would have had that combination if you had planted your toepick during the pivot?" I forced a smile onto my face.

"Thank you for the advice," I reply with as much false enthusiasm as I could muster. I try to back away and make my escape but only succeed in running into Tristan's skates, unbalancing me yet again. He grabs my arms to steady me.

Neither of us was sure of quite what to do. We spent a little too long just staring at each other, but the tinkling of the bell on the office door separated us immediately. Eva emerged before looking at us thoughtfully as I scrambled away and took off my skates.

I wasn't even sure how long I had spent skating but I suddenly felt that I couldn't be around him for another second. Grabbing my bag, I wave goodbye to Eva before stepping out into the chilly morning air. Thankfully Stanley is there, and I hop into the car before I can think twice. Normally I pride myself on my courage, on staying and facing the challenge instead of fleeing, but right now running away seems like a pretty good course of action.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week was highly stressful, flying by in a flurry of tests. There should be a rule preventing teachers from giving four tests on the same day, because I swore I had one in every class on Tuesday. I guess it's better than trying to remember stuff after a break, but the amount of studying I did on Monday night ruined my brain before I even started any of the tests. I'm pretty sure I did well on my math test for once, but we had an essay question on my English exam that I didn't finish. I have to hope for the best, but I don't think there was any way I could've gotten an A on that. When I got home from school on Wednesday afternoon, I was excited for the Thanksgiving break. Courtney had gotten home on Monday night but between all of my practices and homework I had hardly seen her at all. I was really looking forward to spending some quality time with her, even if Thanksgiving also meant I had to appear on _Cooking With Clementine_.

All that excitement dissipated when I saw my mother; I knew that I was in trouble. My mom stood waiting for me in the doorway, framed by her extravagant fall decorations, icy Queen Clementine glare aimed at me. Her arms were crossed and she looked at me expectantly. I stared back, not sure what was going on.

"Do you want to explain this to me?" she said, hardly able to hide the fury in her voice. I looked more closely at the phone screen. My teacher had decided to send an email home, which my mom began to angrily read to me after pulling me into the house.

"Cassidy has not been turning in work recently. I have to wonder if she is under an undue amount of pressure. I would recommend having a conversation with your daughter and seeing what you can do to support her and help her keep academics as a priority."

To be entirely honest, I couldn't even tune out most of it like I usually do. There was a sinking feeling in my gut, and my eyes began to feel a little funny. I felt strangely guilty even though I had been trying my very best to do my work. Academics didn't come naturally to me like they did to some of my friends, like Jess who was smart enough to win a Colonial Academy scholarship. I had to put in extra work to get a B, let alone an A. I guess my mother was perfectly happy to ignore my other grades (like the A- I had managed in Spanish) in favor of an email from my teacher.

I didn't realize that I was about to cry until my mom had stopped shouting. The sudden lack of noise drew me from my thoughts and I realized there were tears welling in my eyes. I forced them away. I didn't cry often, and my grades didn't deserve it. My mom looked hesitant and hardly knew what to say.

"Cassidy, I talked with Stanley. Remember what we said at the beginning of the hockey season, about playing on two teams?"

My heart nearly stopped as I felt a shock of fear run down my spine. Mom couldn't possibly be talking about what I thought she was talking about. Everything was fine just the way it was.

Rather than hear the rest of the news, I took off running, sprinting up the stairs and to my room. I locked my door behind me and ran to the turret, throwing myself onto the window seat. I curled up and just sat there looking out the window. I heard my mom knock on my door and call out my name, but, feeling stubborn, I didn't budge.

She had to know what hockey meant to me. I had fought so hard to play on the school team, and all my hard work had paid off when I made the Shawmuts this year. She couldn't make me stop playing for them, right?

Once I was sure that she was gone, I ran down the stairs and grabbed my bag, putting in my new figure skates, before sneaking into the garage. From where I lived in West Concord, the rink was probably only three miles away. With my hockey bag, biking wasn't an option, but I just had to get away from hockey for a little while or I'd start to think about it all again.

The cold air stings my face as I speed down the steep hill, but the burn in my legs as I bike up the other side of the Pine Street Bridge makes me feel alive again. That's another thing that's very different about Concord compared to California. Winter wasn't actually much of a season the way it is here, even though we still hung up lights and stuff. I miss the mild weather but I don't mind the cold. It's still kind of a thrill to put on a winter jacket because I never used to need one. Courtney is still adjusting from the California weather. I remind myself to grill her about college life once I get back home.

I walk my bike around to the back of the building before leaning it against the wall and walking back around front. I was a bit surprised to find it unlocked so near to the holiday, but heartened. Maybe a conversation with Eva could help me sort out some of my problems?

Walking in, I stood awkwardly in the entrance, unsure of where to go. By rushing over here, I hadn't confirmed whether I would be able to skate or not. I probably should go to the office and see if Mrs. Bergson would let me use the rink or if someone was going to run the Zamboni.

There wasn't any light shining under the door to the office, and opening it confirmed that Mrs. Bergson wasn't in there. I didn't know who else could have a key. A little spooked, I was all set to go before I heard the telltale sound of blades digging into the ice coming from Rink 2. I wondered who could be in there but, feeling a little mischievous, I pulled out my phone and plugged it into the stereo.

Pop music blared throughout the building, and with a smile I walked to Rink 2 to investigate.

"Mrs. Bergson?" I called out. There was no response. Feeling a little trepidation, I peered through the window to the smaller rink. Someone was skating there, but it definitely wasn't Mrs. Bergson. My eyes narrowed. Who else had a key to the building? I wracked my brain for the answer but came up with nothing.

Not quite feeling confident enough to enter a rink with only an unknown stranger for company when nobody knew I was at the rink, I turned back to the office only to nearly collide with Mrs. Bergson herself. She offered her arms for a hug, which I returned.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" I greeted. She smiled before looking at me quizzically.

"What brings you here so close to the holiday, Cassidy?" she queried.

I looked down before taking a deep breath and explaining my hockey situation. Or at least what I guessed would probably happen. Mrs. Bergson looked at me sympathetically.

"I'm going to go ahead and guess you're here to skate. It's what I'd do. You can probably share Rink 2 with Tristan. Actually, there's something I'd like to talk to the two of you about when you are done."

Tristan was here? Of course I couldn't manage to catch a break. He was the last person I wanted to talk to right now, and I didn't feel like having someone judge my skating. But my desire to skate won out over my desire to be alone and I cracked the door open to enter the adjacent rink. He didn't appear to notice me as I put down my back and took off my shoes, lacing up the skates which were slowly starting to become more comfortable. It took me opening the door onto the ice to catch his attention, mainly because he nearly crashed into it.

He looked puzzled, opening his mouth as if to say something, but I was not in a mood to have any of that.

"Shut it, Berkley," I fired at him. "I'm just here to skate."

He shut his mouth before pivoting and zipping away. I let out a sigh of relief and began a circuit around the rink, warming myself up. As I slowly started practicing the moves Eva had taught me, I felt myself relax more and more, focusing on my balance instead of my worries. I worked my way through most of the individual moves that had been troubling me before trying some of the combinations. Feeling confident that I could perform the different sequences, I took off of the ice, relishing the success of landing a jump as I glided backwards. Continuing backwards, I paused and tried a few twizzle, laughing slightly at the name. I came out of the spin to see Tristan staring at me. Was my technique really that bad? I guess he would know as resident ice princess.

The stupefied look on his face made me realize that I had said that out loud. I didn't even bother to try to take back my words. Knowing me, I'd just manage to put my foot in my mouth even further. He skated over to me, surprisingly calm.

"Obviously your technique could be better but I was really just surprised that you knew how to do that. You do know what that's called, right?"

"A twizzle," I laughed. "And what a stupid name."  
"How did you learn how to do that?"

"From Mrs. Bergson. Obviously I didn't just come up with it on my own."

With a thoughtful look on his face, he left the ice. I continued to skate and did a few more laps around the rink before I glanced at the clock. I probably should be going because I had to bike back and I wanted to make it home before sunset. I took off my skates and headed for the main door.

Eva managed to intercept me before I left, Tristan in tow.

"Cassidy, I wanted to speak with the two of you about something."

I nodded, wondering what she could be talking about.

"As you know, Tristan is a highly competitive ice dancer in the British skating world. However when his family moved here, he had to leave his partner behind and hasn't been able to practice his routines despite the information his coach has been sending him."

My eyes widened as I realized where she was going with this. Surely she couldn't mean that…

"I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to train with Tristan."

I looked over at Tristan, expecting him to protest. But he was oddly silent, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Wait, me? You want me to be an ice dancer?" I laughed, expecting them both to give up the charade. Eva nodded enthusiastically.

"You have lots of potential, Cassidy."

I was rendered speechless for a second, casting about for a good reason why I couldn't. Which was unfair to Mrs. Bergson- she had been so generous to be and I really should try to repay that generosity. But fat chance that I would be twirling across the ice in a sparkly dress.

"No way!"

My thoughts fell from my lips before I could stop them. After all, despite the skating lessons with Eva, I was still a hockey girl through and through. The run-ins I had had with the skating divas in the locker room did not leave me inclined to change this fact. A hurt look flashed across both of their faces though, and I plunged ahead.

"I meant that there is no way for me to do this on top of my hockey practices," I croaked out before running out of the rink doors, grabbing my bicycle, and running away.

I seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.


	4. Chapter 4

For the first time I find myself at the rink against my will. It's an odd feeling because I've never not wanted to be there before, but when our car pulls up to the rink, I stubbornly sit inside for as long as I can until Stanley tells me I need to get out. I storm inside with my bag clenched in angry fists.

The last month has been absolutely miserable. My mom had a talk with my Shawmuts coach about my commitment to the team, and I've slowly been getting less and less playing time. This was the last week of the season because we didn't make it to the finals. I wonder if it would've gone any differently if I had gotten to play more, but it really was a team effort. My teammates and I are sure that we can do it next year, but I'm not sure there is going to be a next year. My mom has already said I wouldn't be able to go to any of the post-season tournaments. Which is totally unfair and untrue.

I tried to tell her this, of course, but she just smiled oddly with a gleam in her eyes, that look promising that there would be a reason I couldn't go. It turns out that I found out that reason sooner than I expected, because today my mom told me that I was going to the rink and I should dress for some skating. But not hockey skating.

Because my mom signed me up to skate with Tristan.

It wasn't the skating that was so repulsive; I'd been improving a lot during my weekly lessons with Eva and I managed to squeeze in the time to practice. I just wanted that to be my choice, and I had already made my choice not to do it. I resented my mom's influence on my life but I respected Mrs. Bergson too much to tell her that there had been a mistake, that I wasn't going to do it. So I found myself dressed all in black, being shepherded into the rink with a murderous expression on my face.

The slight smirk on Tristan's face sends my mood spiralling even lower. He stares at me as if he'd known since the second it had been suggested that I would show up eventually. I felt my face flush a little against his will as I saw his eyes take in my skating getup. I glared at him so that he'd know how I really felt about this mess. Mrs. Bergson smiled at the two of us and I did my best to try to calm down. I didn't have a lot of experience in that area, so my efforts didn't do much.

"Cassidy, thank you so much for agreeing to do this. I know you have some misgivings but you are being such a help to Tristan right now."

As we headed onto the ice, she pulled me aside.

"Trust me, I know you aren't happy about this, but imagine how you would feel if you couldn't play hockey for a year?"

My lips still pressed flat, I nodded slightly in understanding. That was pretty much what was happening for the next few months though, since my mom had all but pulled me from the Shawmuts.

I felt my anger cool when I stepped onto the ice, gliding around a little experimentally before heading over to where Eva and Tristan stood. Eva explained that we were starting small today, and I mentally breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing I wanted was for Tristan to insult the effort I was putting into this. Even if I wasn't planning on that being much effort.

"You two are going to start by simply skating together. We're not even going to go to the dance frame yet. Just skate side by side, synchronized, and we'll see how that looks," Mrs. Bergson instructed.

Tristan glided to my right and we locked eyes. He nodded and we both pushed off of our right blades. It felt weird to pay so much attention to someone else while I was skating. I was a little surprised at how hard it was to keep myself in time with him. We were close to the same height, but where Tristan glided smoothly over the ice, I sometimes managed to catch it with the toe pick and throw off the rhythm. As we turned around to go back to Eva, I could sense him growing frustrated with my lack of finesse. I wasn't sure quite what he expected. It's not like I ever pretended to be a figure skating champion or anything.

Eva praised us both when we returned, but I knew that I didn't really deserve it. We were instructed to do it again, and I approached my task with a renewed vigor. I was going to make this work, and if I had to ice dance, I better be good enough that Tristan finally stopped slowing his pace down with a patronizingly encouraging smile. Eva didn't have to prompt us- we skated around and around the rink, occasionally switching directions. After twenty minutes I was surprised to find myself growing a little bit tired. Instead of letting myself slow down, I upped the pace. Let's see if ice princess can keep up.

By the time we finally stopped ten minutes later, we were both breathing heavily. But, I noted, we were skating together with every step. But unfortunately we couldn't just stop there.

Eva demonstrated on Tristan how I should hold his arms but then she moved aside and I was forced to take her place. It felt alien to be this close to Tristan without either of us yelling at each other.

I should have known that there would be yelling to come, because in the dance hold, skating suddenly became much harder. Everything I had picked up on from earlier flew out the window. I found myself using the opposite leg to his, nearly hitting his feet on several occasions. I was frustrated that I suddenly couldn't figure this out. This wasn't helped by the mask that had settled onto Tristan's face. I could tell, despite his lack of emotion, that he was as frustrated as I was by my poor performance. I took a deep breath when Eva had us pause. Getting angry about it wasn't going to change how I was doing. Maybe if I took a moment, I could fix it all?

The fixing part definitely didn't happen immediately. It was a constant battle to keep myself from just walking out of there and stopping the whole thing. But deep down, I think I knew I would feel even worse if I quit. And maybe there was some inkling that I had the potential if I could only learn how.

I felt a little better about myself as Tristan started to make errors in his skating. Small ones, sure, but when I was so close I could tell when his weight wasn't shifted completely, when his own skates nearly hit mine. If Mr. Perfect was having some problems adjusting at his level…

Tristan sighed in exasperation, and I realized I had accidentally let that slip. I felt a little bad but pushed that to the back of my mind. It was his fault if he wanted a partner so badly he had to resort to me; he'd signed himself up for my snappy comebacks.

I was shocked at how my legs ached when I was finally allowed to leave. We'd been skating for a while, but the movement hadn't felt challenging at all compared to my usual hockey practices. I glided over to the door, about to open it when I was stopped by a hand on my arm and a warm breath on my neck.

"Cassidy," Tristan stated stonily, "we need to talk."

Slowly I turned to face him, conscious of just how close we were standing. I shifted backwards, staring in silence. If he wanted to talk so badly, then he could at least go ahead and get started!

He opened his mouth as if to start saying something before closing it, shaking his head.

"Here, I'll show you."

Before I could prepare, he had grabbed my hands and started pulling me forwards. I nearly stumbled, not ready for the sudden movement, before gritting my teeth and throwing myself into the dance. If he wanted to play that game, I would play along. A forfeit counted as a loss, after all. Surprisingly, I managed to pull off most of the parts that given me trouble when Eva had had us run the routine again and again, the anger sharpening my focus. I was so elated to have remained on my feet that I didn't think to protest Tristan's changed hold on me until it was too late and I was swinging in a circle. It was, surprisingly, not too odd a sensation. He slowed and made sure that I was back on me feet.

"That move?" he questioned. I nodded for him to continue. "Annabel and I weren't able to do it until we had been working together for a year."

I looked at him dumbly before my brain remembered how to speak again. "You started ice dancing young, right? Well obviously you wouldn't have been able to pick her up until you got strong enough, after all…"

My squeak of shock was muffled by a gloved hand. Tristan breathed out heavily.

"Just shut up, Sloane. Can't you take a compliment? I was trying to say that you're coming along well, and despite what it might seem like, we're actually working pretty well together."

I breathed out. Despite my lack of enthusiasm for this partnership, it gave me a kind of thrill to hear… well, he was giving more credit then I thought I'd ever get from him.

"Don't feel like you need to say that to spare my feelings. I'm not going to start crying like some of those sparkly ice princesses. I'm not that fragile." I turned away to leave the ice, but his hand shot out roughly to grab my arm.

"I'm not trying to mess with you, Cassidy. Do you think that I'm out to get you or something?"

I wasn't quite sure what to say to that, because to be honest, I really had no idea either. Much to my horror I felt the pricking of tears in my eyes. Of all the times to act up… stupid guilt. Not willing to show this sudden display of emotion (didn't I just say I wasn't weak?), I did the only thing I could since escape wasn't an option. I threw my arms around Tristan, putting my chin on his shoulder, feeling him stiffen. There. Now I had some time to wrangle with my emotions where he couldn't see.


End file.
